


just bros being bros

by guiltyfanfic



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: ?? like it's not soul sex, Fontcest, M/M, Sibling Incest, Soul Sharing, Soul stuff, anime used as a plot device
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-03
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-04 16:03:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5340062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guiltyfanfic/pseuds/guiltyfanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“um, we aren't supposed to do stuff like that,” Sans starts as he rubs the back of his neck. “as brothers, that is. we’re related. we can’t kiss and stuff, because, uh… because we’re bros.”</p><p>He doesn't dare look at Papyrus’s face.</p><p>“OH…”</p><p>There’s silence and Papyrus’s remaining hand slips from Sans’s shoulder.</p><p>“I WON’T DO IT AGAIN, THEN.”</p><p>----</p><p>Sans and Papyrus try to figure some stuff out together. Sans tells Papyrus about Things. Somehow, it works out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 한국어 available: [형제끼리](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6350209) by [Osteophile](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Osteophile/pseuds/Osteophile)



> okay so i think this will end up being two parts? i'm uploading this part because where it cuts off is kind of like an end so if i scrap the second half, hey, no harm done. but yeah, i love this pairing, i'm absolute trash for it, but there's a shocking lack of 'fontcest' fic, and an even more shocking lack of fic that isn't E rated.
> 
> on that note, i'm not planning for them to bone in this. mostly just soul stuff? i'm really interested in trying to explore that. i kind of picture them both as ace anyway so?? also, if you have any requests or anything for fontcest specifically (not for this fic) i'd be happy to like, take a shot at filling them as a separate fic. like i said, i'm sad about how few fics there are for this pairing. 
> 
> but yeah, that's it. hope you enjoy this. we'll all be filthy sinners together.

He shouldn't be feeling these things. It’s disgusting and he shouldn't be entertaining thoughts like the ones he’s having, at 4am, after a Bad Dream (so capitalised because it’s the same one every time, like a film on loop. ‘The Bad Dream’, starring Sans: Setting INT. Noon; Judgement Hall). After he woke up panting and in a cold sweat, he’d forced his thoughts to drift to something less terrifying. From getting stabbed, to the scarf that his alternative timeline self had ‘inherited’, to his brother’s death(s) – sometimes you’ve got to get worse before you get better – and then to his brother. His living, breathing, in the not-flesh brother.

Papyrus.

Sans pushes himself up and presses the metacarpals of his hands against his eye sockets, grinding the bones together. It hurts, but he presses harder. He deserves this. God, does he deserve this.

Thoughts from his brother, to his brother’s bone structure, to his brother’s mouth, to his brother’s arms around him and holding him close, to a sense of warmth and belonging and unconditional sibling love.

Thoughts from sibling love, to his brother’s gloved hands on his waist and their chests pressed together, to his brother’s mouth pressed against his in an approximation of a kiss, to him conjuring a tongue – which, first of all, he didn’t even think was possible – and licking tenderly across his brother’s teeth, to ' _what would papyrus do back_ _?’_.

And then he’d opened his eyes, stared into the darkness, and  f e l t  h i s  s i n s  c r a w l i n g  o n  h i s  b a c k .

\----

“SANS, WAKE UP YOU LAZY BONES! I’M COOKING SPAGHETTI FOR BREAKFAST!”

Somehow, he’d managed to fall asleep again and had, of course, slept in. Nothing out of the ordinary then.

He resigns himself to routine: change shirt (this one was getting gross), pull on shorts, pull on hoodie, pull on socks, slip on slippers, sit on bed and stare at floor for a good five or so minutes just ‘thinking’ (depression is a blast), then finally get up to face the world.

Papyrus is still in the kitchen when he gets downstairs, so he pulls out a chair and leans his elbows on the table, chin in his hands.

“what’s cookin’ good lookin’?” Sans lets his usual grin spread wider, closing one of his eye sockets and watching Papyrus frown at the pasta he’s boiling.

“I ALREADY SAID I WAS MAKING SPAGHETTI, SO… THAT IS ‘WHAT’S COOKING’. AS FOR ‘GOOD LOOKING’—“ Papyrus turns suddenly and Sans slouches as pasta is flung over his head from the spoon that was whipped out of the pot, now held against Papyrus’s chest as the tails from his scarf somehow billow behind him despite the lack of wind “—IT IS VERY TRUE THAT I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, AM INDEED INCREDIBLY ATTRACTIVE, AND I ACCEPT YOUR COMPLIMENT WHOLEHEARTEDLY, BROTHER!”

“i’m glad”, Sans leans back in the chair, shoving his hands into his hoodie's pockets.

Papyrus turns back to the pots on the stovetop, but seems to hesitate in his motions as he stirs a pot. Sans ducks again as Papyrus turns suddenly to face him again, flinging sauce this time to join the pasta from before. He hopes it lands on his pet rock so he won’t have to deal with feeding it later.

“YOU TOO ARE, UM…” he watches as his brother struggles, ”YOU TOO ARE ‘GOOD LOOKING’—“

Sans cuts him off quickly. “you uh, don’t have to do that, bro.”

Papyrus relaxes slightly and turns back to stir the sauce. “GOOD BECAUSE WHILE YOU TOO HAVE THE WONDERFUL BONE STRUCTURE THAT RUNS IN THIS FAMILY—“

“how do we know it runs in the family if we don't know the rest of our family?”

“—IT IS VERY CLEAR THAT I AM WHAT WOULD BE CALLED THE ‘HOT’ BROTHER!” he finishes, ignoring Sans’ question.

“true. you’re definitely the better bro,” Sans shrugs, eyes following Papyrus’s movements as he drains the pasta. He scrapes the bottom of the pan and burnt pasta falls into the colander. Ah, added flavour.

“AT LEAST YOU WILL ALWAYS BE SECOND BEST!”

“i’m good with losing if i’m losing to you.”

Spaghetti is served and Papyrus places the two plates on the table, taking the seat opposite. Sans picks up his fork before looking down underneath the table, as his chair jolts slightly, to see Papyrus’s stretched out feet pressed against the chair’s front legs. Carefully, Sans rests his own feet against his brother’s boot clad shins and twirls some of the pasta noodles around on his fork. He feels something flutter where his stomach would probably be if he had one, and he’s 80% sure it’s not a side effect of the spaghetti.

\----

Work is terrible. He comes home after a particularly bad half-day on the hot dog stand, which had been preceded by Undyne finding him asleep at his sentry station while on duty. Undyne is great – and he’s pretty sure she goes easy on him because Papyrus is his brother – but boy, she can shout really loud when she wants to.

When he shoves open the door, he’s greeted by overwhelming warmth, a stark contrast to the cold of Snowdin behind him. He quickly closes the door, shimmies off his kicks (which is pretty easy when you don’t tie the laces in the first place), and shoves his cold toes into the warm fuzz of his slippers.

Papyrus is on the couch watching MTT and Sans shambles over, flopping face down onto the extra space on the sofa as Mettaton asks someone what the capital of Australia is. Sans isn't even sure he’s aware of what an ‘Australia’ is in the first place. What he is very aware of is his forehead resting lightly on Papyrus’s thigh.

“LONG DAY?” he must really look bad if Papyrus isn't even calling him lazy.

“mm,” he mumbles. He could probably fall asleep like this, feeling the warmth from his brother’s thigh as Mettaton’s voice drones in the background.

Papyrus’s gloved hand smooths over the back of his skull. Sans tenses immediately, and Papyrus stills.

“I-IS THIS NOT…?” he doesn't quite finish but Sans gets what he’s trying to ask.

“no, no it’s fine, pap,” Sans turns slightly, so he’s facing away from Papyrus. He brings one hand up to gently rest it in front of his face on his brother’s thigh. “keep, um… keep doing it?”

The gloved hand returns delicately to the back of his skull, once again smoothing gently over the bone. Papyrus is so careful, and Sans closes his eyes as fingers run over the ridge of his cheekbone, or follow the faintest crack on the back of his head (from an experiment that went wrong many years ago).

Sans makes sure not to move at all when fingers trace so, so lightly over the connection between his skull and his spine. His fingers twitch slightly against Papyrus’s thigh, but he’s pretty proud that’s his only reaction.

This all continues for a while, one MTT show runs into the next and eventually Sans falls asleep with his head in Papyrus’s lap. When he wakes up the next morning, he’s in his bed. At the foot of his bed there’s a plate of spaghetti with a post-it note on it.

_YOU MISSED DINNER. – P_

It’s surprisingly short for one of Papyrus’s notes but Sans is too tired to think about it. He’ll make sure to thank his brother later, not just for the spaghetti but for everything else too. That weird clenching feeling returns to his chest but he ignores it, instead rolling over and making the executive decision to go back to sleep.

\----

On a particular day, when he’s thinking – not for the first time – about how exactly skeletons would kiss considering the whole no lips issue, Papyrus kisses him.

They’re at Undyne’s house because Papyrus had decided to drag him along to watch the training session, insisting Sans needed to actually do something for the day (which he’s not very happy about considering it’s his day off, but whatever). Sans watches from a chair he’d dragged outside, from the kitchen to the yard, as Undyne gets Papyrus to hit the dummy with his bone attacks.

Afterwards, they sit around the table and drink tea, holding casual conversation.

“So,” Undyne starts, “I was at Alphys’s last night and we watched some anime and stuff and, so, two characters kissed. I'm just wondering, you two being skeletons and all, not having lips and stuff—“

“how do skeletons kiss?” Sans finishes for her.

“Yeah! It’s been bugging me because one of the characters was a skeleton and I'm watching it and just wondering 'HOW?'” she slams the mug down at the end for emphasis, splashing some tea onto the table.

Sans shrugs. Papyrus is unusually quiet.

“I'm not hearing an answer here,” Undyne frowns.

“i’m just thinking about it,” Sans mumbles as he leans back. “i’ve never kissed anyone so i don’t know, y’know? trying to figure it out for myself.”

“MAYBE YOU HAVE TO KISS SOMEONE WITH LIPS,” Papyrus pipes up, sounding excited. “MAYBE IT’S JUST THAT SKELETONS CAN’T KISS OTHER SKELETONS BUT ARE, INSTEAD, ONLY THE RECIPIENTS OF ANOTHER MONSTER’S AFFECTIONS!”

“But how do skeletons make little baby skeletons? They have to kiss each other before they, uh, ‘progress’ and stuff, right? I wanna see skull on skull ACTION!” Undyne shouts again, standing up now with her palms spread over the top of the table. “HOW DOES IT WORK?”

“well we’re the only two skeletons i know that live down here,” Sans shrugs. “i’d try it out myself but, welp, no one to try it with.”

Undyne sits down in her chair again, folding her arms over her chest. “That SUCKS! But at least Papyrus cleared up why the two characters were able to kiss. Only one of them was a skeleton so I guess the human just pressed their lips against their, what? Teeth?”

Sans grins and shrugs again. Undyne isn't pleased.

“URGH, you guys are so not helpful!”

After that they’re sent on their way. They never take the fast travel back to Snowdin, Papyrus preferring the walk because he was definitely not kind of scared of the Riverperson, and Sans preferring the walk because it meant he got to talk to his brother more. Only, Papyrus has been unnervingly silent since before they left Undyne’s house.

They pass through another corridor, lit by the crystals above them and the echo flowers around them, when Papyrus finally speaks.

“HOW _DO_ SKELETONS KISS OTHER SKELETONS?” he asks, and Sans would have thought he were talking to himself if he didn't turn to look imploringly at him after he said it.

Shrugging is the bodily movement of the day and Sans does it again. “i really don’t know, bro.”

Papyrus’s hands on his shoulders stop him from moving forwards. He turns slightly so he’s facing his brother and raises a brow bone.

“WE SHOULD TRY.”

“uh—“

And then Papyrus’s teeth are pressed against his, bone against bone, and it doesn't feel bad at all. It feels affectionate, but it doesn't feel how it probably would if they had lips.

Papyrus pulls back and frowns, a gloved hand moving from Sans’s shoulder to his chin, holding him tightly.

“WE CAN’T BE DOING THIS RIGHT.”

“bro—“

His head is tilted by his brother’s hand and teeth meet his again at a different angle. It feels the same, but still probably not how a kiss should feel. He can feel Papyrus’s nervous energy as he starts to get frustrated, like it’s a puzzle he can’t solve.

“MAYBE IT’S OUR SOULS.”

“p-papyrus—“

But he can’t stop Papyrus as he conjures his soul, a soft orange glow seeping through the white fabric of his battle body’s top, the soul trapped inside his ribcage where a heart would be. He looks at Sans expectantly and he can’t deny him, he just doesn't have it in him yet to explain why this is something they shouldn't be doing. Instead, he conjures his own soul, feeling its warmth seep through his ribs, its cyan glow leaking through his shirt, matching the aura of the echo flowers around them.

Papyrus’s hand on his jaw draws him in again and when their teeth meet it feels different now. Their souls edge closer and Sans can’t stop himself from reaching his arms up, wrapping them around his brother’s neck and pulling him in closer. The hand falls from his jaw and moves to grip the back of his hoodie and that’s it, their ribs press together through the fabric of two shirts and their souls resonate.

He hears Papyrus whine and there’s a surge as he tries to press their mouths closer, despite the unyielding bone. Instead Sans parts his teeth, and Papyrus does the same, locking them together in an attempt to bring them closer.

Maybe now would be a good time to try and conjure up a tongue, test if that's really a thing that magic can do. Maybe now would be a good time to press it into Papyrus’s mouth and finally see how the inside of his head feels. Maybe now would…

Maybe now would be a good time to draw his soul back to himself, and unravel his arms from around Papyrus’s neck. Dislodge his teeth from his brother’s own.

“WHY DID YOU STOP?” Papyrus looks a mixture of annoyed and wounded. Sans feels bad for explaining what he’s about to explain but if he doesn't do this it would make him a worse person than he already is.

“um, we aren't supposed to do stuff like that,” Sans starts as he rubs the back of his neck. “as brothers, that is. we’re related. we can’t kiss and stuff, because, uh… because we’re bros.”

He doesn't dare look at Papyrus’s face.

“OH…”

There’s silence and Papyrus’s remaining hand slips from Sans’s shoulder.

“I WON’T DO IT AGAIN, THEN.”

It’s what he does and doesn't want to hear at the same time. “yeah,” he manages to get out.

“M-MAYBE WE’LL BOTH MEET UN-RELATED SKELETONS – OR, OR EVEN OTHER MONSTERS WHO CAN KISS US INSTEAD!” Papyrus seems excited now but Sans wonders how much he’s still hurt, considering how sad he seemed a moment ago.

“yeah bro,” Sans grins but he still can’t look Papyrus in the face. “all the hot monsters will want to kiss you now.”

“YOU BETTER BELIEVE IT, SANS! NYEH HEH HEH!” and like that Papyrus is striding ahead of him, carried quickly by his longer legs.

Sans runs a fingertip over his bottom row of teeth before following Papyrus on the road back to Snowdin.

\----

Being around Papyrus feels weird after that, like there’s the potential for something to happen but in his not-there gut he knows that it would be wrong if it did. He thinks maybe the feeling will go away if he just ignores it, doesn't think about it, but he’s wrong. Time passes. In fact, so long passes that the human – Frisk – comes along and finally, for the first time, frees them and doesn't kill a single monster.

Sans made sure to have a very serious conversation with them about resetting after this, and Frisk genuinely seems to want to keep this ending how it is. Who wouldn't? It’s the perfect ending. When he finds out about the whole Chara thing, Sans gets nervous about the number of times he was stabbed in past timelines. Frisk tries to reassure him that they've got it under control. He just reminds them that they don't have any LV this time around; that it'll be difficult dealing with the consequences if their actions turn sour. They more than understand. They're different now: better. 

The human world is really different to the Underground. For one, gold is worth a lot more up on the surface than it was below it. The change that Sans and Papyrus find between their couch cushions in Snowdin is enough to pay a good few months’ rent on the surface. Most of the monsters who decide to come to the surface are pretty much good in terms of money, and those who aren't get visited by Asgore because he had more gold than anyone would ever need.

Either way, they still need to get jobs. Papyrus ends up enrolling on a culinary course at a college in Ebott, and Alphys manages to convince Sans to come back to the lab – a new lab on the surface – now that they’ll be doing more human science; not the kind of thing that was happening Back Then. He decides to leave the time machine in Snowdin - there's no point trying to fix it now. It’s nice to be thinking again in a way that isn't internal for once. It’s fulfilling. Sometimes he even drops by Toriel’s school to give science lessons, doing experiments that end up at least making a mess and at most exploding spectacularly. The kids love it.

But being around Papyrus still feels weird.

If it feels weird to Papyrus then he doesn’t show any signs, so Sans tries to hide it as best he can. He forces himself to stay completely still when his brother lays a hand on his shoulder; he doesn’t tense up, and he doesn’t lean into the touch. When Papyrus’s stretched out feet press against the front legs of his chair while they’re eating, Sans makes sure his own dangle carefully in the gap between Papyrus’s boots without touching them. When he has a particularly bad day – for whatever reason – and he comes home to see Papyrus on the couch, Sans grins at his brother, calls himself lazy, and spends the rest of the night in his room, wide awake.

When Papyrus asks him if he’s okay, Sans says: “i’m not okay, i’m sans.” and follows it up with “but yeah, i’m feeling fine bro. don’t worry about me.”

\----

It’s movie night at Alphys and Undyne’s place, which usually doesn’t actually mean they’re watching a movie, but usually does mean they’re watching bad anime. Alphys’s collection had really grown once she’d discovered just how much anime there was on the surface.

“I u-uh, really love this one. It’s about a girl w-who uh, doesn’t really feel like a girl or a boy and s-she breaks a vase a-and to pay back her debt she j-joins a host club. Full of, um, p-pretty guys?” Alphys pitches to them, holding up a DVD case.

The couch isn’t big enough to fit them all so Undyne sits at one end, Sans sits at the other end, and a space is left in the centre for Alphys. Papyrus is sat on the floor with Frisk, blankets and pillows under them both. Sans feels like Papyrus’s head is too close to his knees but he doesn’t say or do anything about it.

Frisk signs to Alphys that the anime ‘ _sounds great!_ ’, Undyne’s kind of peeved there are no swordswomen, Sans shrugs, and Papyrus is still trying to figure out what a host club is as Alphys is putting the disc in the DVD player.

“SO IT’S A CLUB FULL OF HOSTS? DO THEY PRACTICE THEIR HOSTING SKILLS? I DON’T GET IT.”

“I bet they’re all dweebs,” Undyne snorts, resting an arm behind Alphys as she takes a seat.

“I-it’s a club where t-they entertain people um, ro-romantically?” Alphys explains as she leans slightly into Undyne.

“OH! MAYBE I SHOULD JOIN ONE!” Papyrus tilts his head back so he’s looking at Sans specifically. Sans tries not to sweat. “WHAT DO YOU THINK, SANS? IF I MADE FRISK FALL IN LOVE WITH ME SURELY I CAN MAKE OTHERS FALL IN LOVE WITH ME TOO!”

Frisk looks away, embarrassed, and pulls a blanket up over their face. ‘ _same, kid_ _’_ , Sans thinks to himself. “maybe, bro,” is what he says.

“M-maybe you could both join one!” Alphys suggests. “I-in this there’s uh, a twin brother duo a-and they kind of, um… fl-flirt with each other to get more customers?”

“NO WAY!” Undyne shouts. “People get turned on by that?”

‘ _Bone bros_ ’, Frisk signs simply. Undyne cackles.

“Hoooly shit, you guys could rake in the big bucks if that really works.”

Sans stays very still and doesn’t say anything, which is a mistake because it allows Papyrus to say something instead. Or rather, do something.

Papyrus reaches his arms up above him and positions his hands so he’s holding Sans’s cheeks gently, then he carefully pulls Sans’s face down towards his. Sans stares at him, eye sockets widening as Papyrus smirks ( _smirks_ , he didn't know Papyrus could smirk) and rubs a thumb over bone.

“ _How about it, brother?_ ” and he doesn’t yell it, for once. It’s one of the only times Sans has ever heard Papyrus almost whisper and it unnerves him.

He stares in shock for a moment before he realises that people are watching them and he slaps Papyrus’s hands away from his face, almost kicking him as he squirms to get free. His cheeks are burning in a way that shouldn't be possible considering he’s pretty sure he doesn’t have a blood flow. “uhh, nuh-uh, nope, not happening, sorry bro, that’s waaaay too weird for me.”

Undyne snorts into Alphys's shoulder and Frisk covers their mouth, all three of them laughing. Papyrus though, Sans thinks, looks strangely wounded. Sans furrows his brow bones at him, about to ask him what’s wrong. Before he can say anything, Undyne holds the remote triumphantly above her head.

“Now that that’s over!” she points it dramatically towards the television. “Let’s start this weeb fest!”

“O-otaku fest,” Alphys tries weakly, but she’s drowned out by the opening theme.

\----

One day, when they’re sat on the couch, carefully positioned at opposite ends as they watch Mettaton’s new show, Papyrus asks him:

“When did this happen?”

It’s way quieter than Papyrus should ever be, and although Sans can barely hear it over the voices on the television, it hits him as though Papyrus had shouted it. He knows exactly what he’s talking about as well – this distance that has come between them. And it’s all Sans’s fault. All his fault because he can’t trust himself to act right. All his fault because he can’t stop thinking about just how close Papyrus could get to him if he just _let him_.

All his fault because he can’t stop thinking about that first time, surrounded by echo flowers, when Papyrus puzzled out how to kiss him properly. The warmth of their souls as they vibrated together.

Even though he knows all this, he still has the fucking gall to turn to Papyrus, act like he’s confused, and ask: “what do you mean, bro?”

Papyrus cringes and waves a gloved hand between them both. Sans follows the movement with a dedication. “Us. We’re not,” Papyrus frowns. “We’re not the same as we used to be and I don’t understand why.”

Sans swallows and turns to face away.

“You’re so—withdrawn! I don’t, I just don’t get it, Sans.”

He focuses solely on a spot on the wall to the far right of the television. The couch dips as Papyrus stands up and paces.

“We used to be so close but these past… months? What happened? I was so used to hugs, and affection, and I don’t know? Brother things? And then you just stopped. Do you—do you not love me any more?”

Sans’s eyes snap immediately to look up at Papyrus where he stands in front of him. Instantly he remembers the reason he’d looked away in the first place; the tears gathered in his brother’s eye sockets. “papyrus, you mean the god damn world to me.”

“Then why?” Papyrus throws his arms out to his sides, frustrated. Another puzzle he can’t solve. He chokes and the tears overflow. “W-why won’t you let me be close to you?”

He holds Papyrus’s gaze and tries to think of something to say, something that doesn’t incriminate him, something that’s a lie. A filthy lie, instead of the disgusting truth. “it’s nothing to do with you, pap. it’s just, uh, me…”

“I know it’s _you_! If it was _me_ I’d have figured this out already!” Papyrus throws his arms out again with a whine of frustration. His leg twitches like he's resisting the urge to stamp his foot.

“i know but—“

“How do I fix this?” Papyrus demands, stepping closer to the couch as he cuts Sans off. Their knees touch and Sans tries to shrink back further into the cushions. His voice raises again, but not in the same way that Papyrus will yell things normally. “HOW?”

“m, maybe it will fix itself?” Sans tries, but Papyrus isn't pleased.

Instead of giving him an answer, Papyrus conjures his soul. Part of him feels shocked seeing him do it, but another part of him resonates with it.

“what… what are you doing, bro?”

“DO YOURS,” Papyrus says, before placing his gloved hands on Sans’s shoulders.

“pap, remember how i explained we’re not supposed to—“ Sans starts but he’s cut off again.

“I KNOW, BUT IT WAS THE LAST TIME Y-YOU—“ this time he cuts himself off, doesn’t even wait for Sans to summon his soul before he presses their teeth together.

It’s not the same without both souls there and they both know it, and knowing it only seems to make Papyrus more frustrated as he tries to press closer. His legs slip between Sans’s knees and he presses him back into the cushions with a kind of desperation. Denying himself he can do, but Sans would be lying if he said he’d ever once denied something to his brother. He closes his eyes and lets his soul materialise.

Immediately, Papyrus moans, slumping into him in a way that brushes their rib cages together, spreading warmth between them. Sans can feel his brother’s love and his frustration and his sadness, all through the almost connection of their souls. He doesn’t want to think about what Papyrus can feel coming from him. Instead, he wraps his arms around his brother’s neck – like the first time – and parts his teeth, allowing Papyrus to have this.

After a few minutes, Papyrus moves his face to press it against the fur of Sans’s hoodie. Sans can tell he’s crying, so he brings one hand up to the back of his head and pulls him closer, knocking their ribcages firmly together. He returns a favour from what feels like a lifetime ago, running his stumpy fingers carefully over the dips and grooves in his brother’s skull, delicately tracing the connection to the spine. Papyrus presses closer and sobs. 

By this point they've slid, so Papyrus’s knees are on the floor between Sans’s legs and Sans is laid back fully on the couch, pushed into the bottom cushion by Papyrus’s chest pressed firmly to his, balanced by his feet pressed flat to the floor. Even as they’re relatively still, he can feel the buzz of their souls trying to fully reach one another. Now that… that would really be the point of no return.

“W-why can’t we just do this? Why can’t this be a thing we do?” Papyrus asks, voice muffled. He’s got to be catching some of that fur in his mouth.

Sans sighs. “because we’re brothers and it’s wrong.”

“I don’t feel wrong.”

Something in Sans’s chest twists because it’s true. He doesn’t feel wrong either. This is the most ‘right’ he’s felt in a long time if he’s honest with himself. “yeah…” he says, instead of trying to explain it. “yeah. i know, buddy.”

They stay like that for a few more minutes before Sans realises this position must be hell on Papyrus’s knees.

“hey, let’s get more comfortable, yeah?” he asks, and feels Papyrus nod against his neck.

Even so, they stay like that for a moment longer before Papyrus hauls himself off the ground. He looks tired, more tired than Sans ever remembers seeing him. It never really occurred to him that Papyrus would be hiding how much he was hurt by this, or how much he wanted this kind of closeness. When their chests disconnect, his soul feels cold by comparison. He moves so that his back is against one of the arms of the couch. Papyrus looks confused as to what to do, trying to figure out what’s allowed. What’s ‘wrong’. Sans hates himself for doing this to him, for making him this confused about things.

“come on,” he says, voice gentle, holding his arms open in a clear invitation.

Papyrus fits himself into the space between Sans and the back cushions of the couch, and Sans shifts to accommodate him. They manage to find a comfortable position where Sans’s face is pressed against Papyrus’s shoulder and Papyrus’s face is pressed back into the fur of Sans's hoodie. Their chests press together, arms wrapped around each other. Even then, they’re not sure what to do with their legs so they just fill the rest of the couch with them pressed side by side.

“i’m sorry,” Sans mumbles, partially hoping it won’t be heard so he doesn’t have to explain what he’s sorry for. “i’m sorry, papyrus.”

Papyrus doesn’t say anything in return, doesn’t ask what he means. He must feel something in the slight connection of their souls, Sans thinks, because all Papyrus does is press their chests closer together and bury his face deeper in the fur.

\----

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cool so... this took longer to update than i thought it would. there are parts of this chapter that aren't canon any more since a certain update (//bl asters//) but including the other part of this it's so long that i really don't want to rewrite anything. next chapter will come either today or tomorrow. technically, i do have an essay to write right now but... y'know.
> 
> this chapter is based on a lot of headcanons, and the pattern of resets is based on my own. mostly i just wanted papyrus to know idk. it all ended up waaaaaay longer than i expected it to.

The relationship shifts again and Sans doesn’t really know how to handle it. It’s better than it was – he lets himself lean into Papyrus’s casual touches, looks up at him and let’s his grin spread wider as Papyrus smiles back – but it’s not what it was before. It’s never going to be what is was before again, because if they hadn’t crossed a line in Waterfall then they certainly had now. But it’s not bad. In fact, it’s nice.

Papyrus is still doing that culinary course, so when he’s not at his classes he’s usually in the kitchen. Sometimes he’s cooking, sometimes he’s just sat at the table studying. All credit to him though because his cooking has genuinely improved since he started, shooting up past ‘edible’ and ‘okay’, currently resting at ‘actually pretty good’. He’s smarter than anyone ever gives him credit for, able to achieve whatever he wants with a good teacher and an iron will that eerily reminds Sans of Determination.

Sans pushes himself up onto his tiptoes and leans over Papyrus’s shoulder, hands on the back of the chair, to look at what his brother is reading.

“what are you working on?” he asks.

“JUST TRYING TO MEMORISE THIS INFORMATION FOR A TEST,” Papyrus replies as he turns a page of the book.

“y’need any help?” he only asks because he knows Papyrus sometimes has trouble reading things.

“I THINK I’M GOOD.” He seems pretty distracted by it so Sans decides to let him be.

“mm. good luck, bro,” Sans says, then leans slightly more forward and presses his teeth to Papyrus’s cheekbone to kiss it. He takes his hands off the back of the chair and goes over to the fridge, opening it to check what they’ve got in. Maybe he should go to the store soon? Or maybe the new Grillbys. As good as Papyrus’s cooking is now, something inside Sans craves grease.

“UHH…”

Sans looks over the fridge door. “you okay, pap?”

“CAN I… DO THAT TO YOU TOO?”

Papyrus’s cheekbones are dusted with an orange glow. Sans realises this is what it looks like when skeletons blush. A manifestation of their magic. Huh. “do what?” he asks.

“THE CHEEK KISS THING?” Papyrus puts the book down on the table.

Oh. He hadn’t even realised what he’d done. He knew this would happen though. He knew that if he let himself do the normal things, he’d end up doing the not normal things. It just felt natural, like they’d done it a hundred times before, but clearly they hadn’t. Honestly, Sans doesn’t see the point in trying to stop this going wherever it goes. He gives up. As long as Papyrus is happy, he’s happy.

“if you want to,” Sans shrugs, closing the fridge door with nothing to show for it. “just not in public i guess? like kissing.”

“BECAUSE WE’RE BROTHERS?”

“yeah. but if it makes you happy, go for it, buddy.”

“I WILL!” Papyrus stands up and the chair squeaks against the tiles. “RIGHT NOW!”

“bro, c’mon…”

It’s not even an attempt at a protest. Papyrus grips his shoulders, a familiar feeling, and presses his teeth against Sans’s left cheekbone. It feels nice, affectionate, kind of like how kissing without their souls felt. He can feel his cheekbones warm up as Papyrus pulls back and grins at him and he wonders if his blush is the same colour as his soul like Papyrus’s is.

“don’t do anything you don’t want to do, okay?”, Sans says, and he’s not sure where it comes from, but he feels like it needs saying. “if something i do makes you uncomfortable just… just please tell me, pap.”

Hands still on his shoulders, Papyrus pulls him in so his face is pressed against his chest. “WORRY NOT, BROTHER! THE GREAT PAPYRUS NEVER DOES SOMETHING HE DOESN’T WANT TO DO!”

“not true. you always do stuff for me even though you don’t have to,” Sans raises his hands so he’s hugging Papyrus back.

“BUT IT MAKES YOU HAPPY AND, AS YOUR AMAZING BROTHER, I WANT TO MAKE YOU HAPPY.”

His ribs hurt on the inside but it’s not a bad kind of hurt. He presses his face fully into Papyrus’s chest. “do stuff for yourself, not for me.”

“I UNDERSTAND YOUR CONCERN, SANS, BUT YOU’RE NOT TAKING ADVANTAGE OF ME,” Papyrus says, his voice sounding firm. It shocks him a little bit. “I LIKE FEELING CLOSER TO YOU. EVEN IF I KNOW THERE ARE THINGS THAT YOU STILL HIDE, AT LEAST WITH THIS I FEEL LIKE YOU ARE SHARING SOMETHING WITH ME.”

Sans tilts his head so he’s looking up at his brother. He feels weirdly emotional and he’s not sure if he’s a fan of it. Trust Papyrus to make him feel genuine emotions after so long of feeling numb. “i’ll tell you soon, okay? after you finish your college stuff for this year. it’s, uh, really personal and kind of heavy? but i’ll tell you.”

“PROMISE?”

He hates promises, but this is for Papyrus. He swallows.

“yeah. yeah, i promise.”

\----

Sans has a nightmare.

He doesn’t know why it comes as a surprise but he’s certainly shocked by it. So much so that it’s enough to set off the cyan flare of his left eye as he shoots into a sitting position, panting, and quickly enough to jostle his ribs, making him feel sick. He’s vaguely aware that he shouted, so he fumbles his arms out from under the covers and presses two shaking hands over his clenched teeth. His bones clack against each other from how badly he’s shaking, so he presses down firmer, leaning forwards so his hands are pressed against his knees, somewhat steadying them.

It’s not enough though, because the walls are thin and he can hear his brother shifting about in the room next to his. Even so, it takes Papyrus a few moments to call out a hesitant, “SANS?”

Sans doesn’t reply. Instead, Sans holds his breath to stop himself from gasping, stares straight at the wall in front of him to try and calm himself down. He can still feel his eye burning though, no matter how hard he tries to make it go away.

No matter how hard he tries to save his brother, Papyrus always ends up dead.

It’s not his fault. It’s always out of his control. There are limitations to what he can and can’t do. He’d tried to save Papyrus in a few timelines. It only ever ended up with him getting killed instead of his brother. Knowing that Papyrus – at least in a few timelines – had to face down with Chara… it’s not something he wants to think about.

His door creaks open and his eyes snap from the wall to Papyrus’s face peeking through the crack in his door. “SANS, ARE YOU OKAY?”

He tries to reply but he can’t. He tries harder, forcing himself to breathe again. Worried, Papyrus opens the door wider and slips inside. Sans breathes out, breathes in, and then on the out he sobs. His insides ache and he can feel hot streaks from unknowingly shed tears on his cheekbones that he hadn’t noticed before. He feels a hot, cold, numb sensation spread over his bones like a film that won’t let him feel anything.

Papyrus puts his hands on Sans’s shoulders and the touch feels muted. “SANS? WHAT’S WRONG?”

God, isn’t that a question and a half.

He leans forward and presses his face against Papyrus’s shoulder. One hand leaves his mouth to grip the fabric of his brother’s pyjama top, while the other stays pressed over his teeth to muffle his sobbing. Papyrus gently pulls Sans close to him, sitting on the bed at an awkward angle and running his hand soothingly over the back of Sans’s skull.

When Sans finally manages to get his breathing under control he tries to explain. “just… it was just a—a really, r-really bad dream.”

Instead of trying to pull back and make eye contact, Papyrus just pulls Sans closer to him and Sans is infinitely thankful for it. “WHAT WAS IT ABOUT?”

“h-heh, ha… good one, bro,” Sans tries to dry his eyes by shifting the sockets against the soft cotton of Papyrus’s shirt. “god, what w-wasn’t it about?”

The side of Papyrus’s jaw clinks against Sans’s skull. “Sans, please…”

His lowered voice foretells a worry that Sans isn’t going to try and argue with. He takes a few deep breaths to steady himself, clenches his hands tighter in his brother’s shirt.

“i dreamt that you died. over and over again. and no matter how hard i tried,“ the last simmer in his eye finally dies down, and now all he can feel in his sockets is a void, “There was nothing I could do to save you.”

“W-WELL THEN,” he seems to be at a loss for words, which is very rare considering Papyrus always has something to say about everything. “AT LEAST IT WAS JUST A DREAM, RIGHT?”

Sans has to stop himself from laughing. “yeah.”

There’s a long silence.

Quietly, barely above a whisper, Sans asks: “hey um… sleep here tonight?”

Papyrus doesn’t say anything, just nods.

\----

It’s a slow day at the lab with Alphys. They’re running tests on some equipment and the results are going to take a while to come back, so Sans decides to head down to Toriel’s school and teach a science lesson or two. It always, without fail, cheers him up when he creates some sort of scientific disaster around those kids, and he’s pretty sure they get some sort of kick out of it too.

He decides to go classic. ‘ _self-sustaining tornado_ ’ he writes on the board in the neat print of his handwriting. The kids seem excited so they dive right in, splitting into groups and following Sans’s instructions so they can create a little army of tornadoes.

“Maybe we could make them fight each other!” one of the students loudly suggests.

“hey, kid,” Sans winks an eye socket at them. “maybe tell your tornado to have a little _mercy_ , huh?”

Eventually they all finish with their tornadoes. The whole class stands awkwardly at the edges of the classroom, watching as the tornadoes bump into one another in the centre. When two of the tornadoes merge, Sans sees where this is going and decides to dismiss the class before anyone gets hurt.

As he’s locking the door behind them all (a glance through the window of the door shows that the other tornadoes are merging too, picking up the desks that had been shoved to the far wall – it’s not his problem now) he hears a quiet cough behind him. He turns, only to be faced with Frisk.

“hey there, buddo,” he lets his grin spread wider as he greets them. “what brings you here?”

They pause, think for a moment, then sign, ‘ _A healthy thirst for learning._ ’

“nice one, kid,” Sans grins. He checks his watch. 3pm. “hey, you want me to walk you back home?”

Frisks nods. ‘ _Toriel’s._ ’

“righto.”

They both head out of the school building together, down the path, past the bushes that Asgore carefully maintains, and along the road that leads to Toriel’s house. It’s silent. Well, Frisk is always silent, and signing while walking is both hard to do and hard to read because of the awkward angle. Which is why Sans stops when a thought crosses his mind, Frisk stopping and turning to face him. They hold up a forefinger and wag it, a confused expression on their face: ‘ _what?_ ’

He contemplates saying it’s nothing but, honestly, this kid is the only person he doesn’t have to lie to.

“papyrus wants me to tell him about the resets,” Sans says, and at Frisk’s shocked expression decides to clarify his statement. “no, no. he doesn’t know about the resets he just—“ Sans sighs, shuffles his feet. “y’know… he’s not stupid like people think he is. he’s really observant. really good at puzzles. and he knows i hide stuff from him and, well, he wants answers. i promised i’d tell him. so that means telling him about the resets and… heh, and everything else.”

Frisk raises their hands and finger-spells, ‘ _Chara._ ’

“bingo.”

Frisk looks away, but Sans decides to continue anyway.

“i told him i’d tell him when he’s done with college for the year but hey, i was just thinking,” Sans rubs the back of his neck and Frisk looks back to him. “it’s coming up to winter break. usually around this time, we’d be giving gifts to the gryftrot and stuff. maybe me, you, and pap could take a trip down to snowdin – because i kinda left all my timeline-y stuff there – tell pap, give the gryftrot gifts, and head back for human christmas or whatever.”

For a moment, Frisk stares at their hands. ‘ _He won’t hate me?_ ’

Sans wraps an arm around their shoulders and gives them a half hug. “hey kiddo, if i could understand then papyrus is definitely going to understand. and if he doesn’t understand, he’ll try his hardest to. that failing and he blames you, he’ll forgive you anyway. got it?”

Frisk nods their head. Sans releases them and ruffles their hair affectionately. This kid has been through too much for someone their age. He doesn’t envy the position they’ve been put in.

“let’s get you home, bud.”

Another nod and they both start walking again.

\----

Snowdin looks exactly the same as it did when they left, the only difference now being a distinct lack of footprints marring the perfect coat of snow that has always covered the ground. The lights that are strung around their house have long since burnt out. It’s not because the Core isn’t running – because it definitely still is, now serving as a reliable energy source for some nearby isolated towns on the surface. They’ve gone out because they were cheap lights, and they broke every year; this year they weren’t able to replace them because they were on the surface.

Sans remembers the routine. He remembers holding the ladder as Papyrus carefully but over-enthusiastically hammered nails between the three wires that the lights were strung on. His brother always insisted that Sans hold the ladder instead of doing the hammering, not wanting to risk Sans falling or hurting himself out of concern for his low HP.

Papyrus opens the door slowly, the hinges creaking and the light casting itself eerily across the darkness of their old living room. Frisk shivers and it’s uncertain whether it’s due to the cold or some feeling that the old house inspires in them. After groping the wall for a moment, Papyrus finds the light switch to the right of the door and the room lights up. It looks the same as it always did, if a little dusty from disuse.

The couch is there, as is the old television. Sans remembers the day he, Papyrus, and Gaster found it at the dump. It had taken the three of them to carry it all the way back to Snowdin. Gaster and a much younger Papyrus had done the arm work while Sans had done what he could with his blue magic. Papyrus remembers it as him and Sans finding the television at the dump, the two of them taking forever to lug it back home even with the help of their combined blue magic. Sans remembers the hours it took for him to fix it with Gaster’s guidance; Papyrus remembers Sans tinkering with it and then it magically working.

“i wonder if this thing can get a signal from the surface,” Sans mumbles aloud to himself. At the hopeful looks that both Papyrus and Frisk give him, he decides there’s no harm in trying it out.

It’s getting late. The drive from the town they lived in now to Mount Ebbot had taken longer than any of them had expected. So Papyrus and Frisk cook dinner together as Sans fiddles around with the television.

Yeah, tonight will be a casual night. Let Papyrus have this peace. Tomorrow they’ll deliver presents to the Gryftrot, and after that Sans will try to figure out how he and Frisk are going to tell Papyrus the heavy stuff.

\----

He has another nightmare and wakes up scared, in familiar but unfamiliar surroundings. It takes Sans a while to realise it’s their old living room in Snowdin, longer to convince himself that it hasn't been reset, and longer yet to remember why he’s there.

It doesn’t seem like he made much noise this time though, which he’s relieved for.

Frisk is sleeping in his old bed, which is why Sans is sleeping on the couch. He carefully climbs the stairs (remembers perfectly, through not-there-muscle memory, which steps do and don’t creak) and silently opens the door to Papyrus’s room. He closes it softly behind him, leaning against it. It takes a few minutes for him to work up the nerve to speak, but even just knowing that Papyrus is in the room with him is enough to somewhat ease the aftermath of the fear that the nightmare caused.

“h-hey… papyrus?” his voice is quiet but his brother always had been a light sleeper.

“Sans?” the sheets on the bed rustle as Papyrus sits up. His voice is groggy and sleep-hazed. “Is that you?”

“yeah um, i was wondering—“

“You shouldn't be wondering, you should be sleeping.”

“i know i just—“ he breathes in shakily. “can i sleep in here tonight?”

There’s a pause, then Papyrus nods. Sans barely manages to catch the movement in the darkness of the room. It’s a snug fit, squeezing in next to Papyrus in his old racecar bed. But, with Sans’s face pressed into Papyrus’s chest, and Papyrus’s arms holding him close, they manage.

Sans thinks maybe that’s going to be it, no more comments and no more questions. Not so lucky.

“Was it another nightmare?” Papyrus asks. Sans nods and feels his brother gently press his teeth to the top of his skull. “Was it the same one as last time?”

Sans shakes his head. “no, uh… it was different. i, um—“ he breathes in deep and steady. When he lets the breath out, he turns his head and rests his cheekbone against his brother’s chest. “this time i saved you but uh, i died instead. heh.”

Even through repeated timelines, he won’t forget the rare instances in which Papyrus saw him die trying to save him. Won’t forget the look on his brother’s face regardless of whether he was dissolving into dust, or watching Sans do so instead.

Papyrus pulls him closer, holding him so tight that Sans thinks he hears his own bones grinding. He presses his teeth to Sans’s skull in another kiss, and this time he doesn’t move them away.

Sans sleeps peacefully, and he hopes Papyrus does too.

\----

They deliver the presents to the tree in the centre of Snowdin, and are surprised to see Grillby there with his daughter. Sans strikes up a friendly conversation, long since able to understand the ghostly whispers that Grillby speaks in. He asks where they’re staying, and Grillby gives him as much of an incredulous look as someone made entirely of flames can give.

“Where we stayed before we left,” Grillby tells him. Sans must be easier to read than he thinks he is because after a moment Grillby clarifies, “Our house was behind the bar.”

“oh. y’know, i never did understand why you didn't live in hotlands,” Sans wonders. “guy like you… think you’d be able to take the heat, huh?”

Grillby shifts his feet in the snow and shrugs. “Snowdin seemed nicer. Quieter.” His face flickers like he’s chuckling. “It was quieter until you and Papyrus turned up.”

Sans’s grin spreads wider. “got me there. though, where else are such _cool_ skeletons supposed to _chill_ out?”

Grillby flickers again, a sound like wind coming from him. His voice is like a breath of fresh air. Literally. Papyrus and Frisk seem to have finished talking to Grillby’s daughter and placing the presents under the tree. His brother turns to look at him. He looks happy.

“guess i’ll see ya around, grillbz.”

\----

Sans paces the length of the living room as Frisk video calls Toriel on their phone. He’s vaguely aware that Papyrus is watching him from the couch. Usually he’d take any opportunity to sit down and be a Lazy Bones™ but he’s too restless. He feels like if he stops moving, lets his momentum die, then maybe something bad will happen – or if he stops worrying about this then maybe it will stop mattering in the same way everything else stopped mattering. It’s all irrational, he knows, but even though the pacing kind of grates on him, it makes him feel better.

“YOU’RE ACTIVE TODAY,” Papyrus says, but it’s not as jovial as it should be. When Sans looks at him, he catches the worry on Papyrus’s face.

“yeah i just, the uh, the heavy stuff. me and frisk we’re um—“ he finally stops pacing and stays stationary in the middle of the room. He runs his hands over his face and keeps them held over his teeth as he stares at the wall in front of him, boring a hole into a spot just to the left of Papyrus’s head. “—we’re gonna explain it to you and i’m… heh, i guess i’m just nervous, bro.”

“AH, I SEE,” Papyrus says then stands. Sans gives him a weary look as he steps forward. “HOW COULD YOU EVER BE NERVOUS WITH A BROTHER AS COOL AS THE GREAT PAPYRUS TO COMFORT YOU?”

Papyrus spreads his arms and Sans feels his shoulders sag. He drops his hands to his sides and tilts his body into Papyrus’s embrace. His brother’s arms wrap around him and Sans closes his eyes, allows himself to lean further into it. When Papyrus presses his teeth to the top of his skull, Sans feels his soul flicker with a want to be closer. Not enough to conjure the soul itself, but enough for him to yearn.

He’d probably give in if Frisk wasn't in the other room. It’s been a long time since that night on the couch and he misses the feeling of being so connected. But Frisk is going to come back any moment now. He can’t.

The call from Toriel had been unexpected anyway. It had come right after they’d both got themselves pumped up and organised enough to talk to Papyrus. That’s why he’d paced, to keep the momentum going. Now Sans was left feeling on edge, and he just wants… what? Love. Acceptance. Warmth.

Wants to feel the warmth on and in his bones, seeping into the marrow. Wants blue and orange straining against rib cages, glowing and unconditional and fulfilling. No, no. No, more like corrupting. Blue corrupting orange, making it a murky brown. Killing the glow. He’s fucking disgusting.

The door handle turns and Papyrus gently pushes him away even though Sans doesn’t want to be separate. He wants to stay in the embrace forever and not have to explain what he’s about to explain. The worst part is, he know this won’t be all of it. All the Gaster stuff has to be explained after this, which is something even Frisk can’t help him with.

Frisk signs they’re ready and Sans gestures for Papyrus to take a seat on the couch. Sans lets Frisk take the seat at the opposite end and opts to pace again instead of sitting between them. He takes a deep breath, feels the chill in his bones, checks that Frisk is ready, then lets the breath out.

“okay, so—“

\----

He explains everything.

“time isn’t linear but timelines are. the timeline we’re in gets looped depending upon the will of a certain kiddo. if they die, it loops back to their last SAVE. if they RESET it loops back to the point in which they fell into the ruins. this works through DETERMINATION. it’s really complicated, bro, but that’s the easy way of explaining it. i monitor this through a… machine and some other stuff. i’ll show you it later.

“basically, the timeline gets repeated and nobody really remembers except for frisk and me. though frisk remembers everything and i only remember fragments and some other things through the readings of all my time stuff. you ever get the feeling that you’re missing something? or you’re certain you’ve done something only to find out you’ve not done it after all? or you know something is going to happen without knowing why? yeah, that’s probably a reset.”

“I THOUGHT YOU WERE PRANKING ME THROUGH TIME AND SPACE.”

“heh. nah, bro. but that’s a good idea. i’ll write that one down. this has been happening since before frisk fell down here though. the whole determination thing kind of comes from something else. the anomaly. frisk will explain it better than i can.”

“ _Chara. They were the first human to fall into the underground. They found out that with a monster soul they could break through the barrier. After trying to kill Asgore and failing to get his soul, they killed themselves by eating the yellow flowers in the garden outside of the castle. They did this knowing that Asriel, the King and Queen’s son, would absorb their soul and use it to cross the barrier. They wanted to destroy humanity. Asriel stopped them from controlling him and returned to the Underground. He died and his dust scattered across the flowers in the Palace gardens. Chara’s soul went with it._

_“I think their body got buried in the Ruins. I’m not sure. But their influence starts right there at the beginning. The first time I fell, Chara’s soul controlled me and I wanted to kill everyone. I killed every monster I could, and all the BOSS monsters. I killed Toriel, I killed you, I killed Undyne, I killed Mettaton, I killed Sans, and I killed Asgore then… Chara claimed my soul. Since then I’ve got better at controlling them. I think they’re where the power of determination comes from? But now I can control the power. Kind of. That’s about all I know.”_

“I DON’T… THINK I REMEMBER DYING.”

“probably for the best, bro.”

“BUT THOSE NIGHTMARES THAT YOU HAD. THEY WEREN'T NIGHTMARES. THEY WERE MEMORIES.”

“yeah.”

“ _I’m really sorry._ ”

“NO, HUMAN, IT IS VERY CLEAR THAT IT IS NOT YOUR FAULT! IN FACT, I AM VERY IMPRESSED THAT YOU WERE ABLE TO CONQUER CHARA!”

“yeah, buddy. you won in the end. s’what counts.”

“I GUESS ME BELIEVING IN YOU REALLY DID STOP YOU FROM DOING A VIOLENCE!”

\----

They eat. Sans decides to go for a walk, look around Snowdin a bit, clear his head. Frisk gets a bath and goes to bed. Papyrus says he’s going to see how well Sans did with the television and check if he can get a signal to Mettaton’s show on the surface.

When Sans comes back he stomps off the snow on his shoes outside the door. The light is off so he guesses Papyrus went to bed. He kicks off his kicks by the door and slips into his slippers. He turns to face into the room and finds Papyrus sat on the couch in the dark, face in his hands and elbows on his knees, staring at the ground. He was worried this would happen.

Sans turns on the lamp next to the couch before carefully taking a seat next to Papyrus. His brother is silent for a few long, awkward minutes, before finally speaking up.

“This is what you had to deal with?” Papyrus says. Sans swallows at the lowered volume, but it’s not like he wasn't expecting it. “How many times did you watch me die?”

He’d have to check the time journal in the basement to make sure so he tells the truth. “i lost count.”

Papyrus tenses up. “How could something hate that much?”

Sans swallows. “i dunno. though, even i got pretty bad after some of the stuff. a lot of hate. i, uh…” Papyrus moves his head out of his hands and gives him a strange look. “let’s go outside for a second.”

He holds out a hand and Papyrus takes it without question. Sans leads him outside, a little bit past the house so they’re close to the clearing where his brother had fought Frisk all those times. Papyrus is still giving him that strange look, so Sans starts speaking again. No going back now.

“okay so i can do uh, more magic than you think i can. it just wears me out quicker than it would you,” Sans starts.

“You can do all the attacks I can. Our magic is linked.”

“heh, yeah but uh… here i’ll just show you.”

It’s been a while since he’s done this. He’d fought Chara a lot but it had mostly been at the beginning of Frisk’s long series of resets. It’s been a while since he’s had to fall back on those feelings of hate and remorse to summon the Blasters. It hurts, emotionally and physically. The magic is strong enough to make his bones ache. He’s never wondered why he fell asleep during those final fights. They were exhausting.

He knows the Blaster has been summoned because he can feel its weight in the control of his left hand, held above his head. At some point his eye sockets closed and he doesn’t want to open them because Papyrus will definitely see his burning eye, but he has to open them to see Papyrus’s reaction.

His brother is shocked, to say the least. The Blasters aren't exactly pretty. In fact, they’re horrifying. Sans is scared of them himself, though maybe he’s more scared of the kind of emotions he had to pour into the magic to summon them. And the worst part is that he knows Papyrus could summon the Blasters too, because their magic is linked. He never wants to see these hellish monstrosities summoned at his brother’s hand.

“WHAT THE HECK IS THAT?” Papyrus’s volume is definitely not low any more. At least there’s that.

“they’re called blasters. well, they’re called ‘gaster blasters’. uh, that’s got some explaining behind it too if you want to go into it,” Sans says.

Papyrus gives him that strange look again. It’s probably because he didn’t realise the extent of the things that Sans kept hidden. He feels guilty, and his hold on the Blaster wavers a little, the maw of jagged teeth and broken bone dragging itself open. He feels the heat of the laser beginning to manifest itself in the Blaster’s throat. He clenches his teeth, focuses on neutrality, and clenches his hand into a fist to get the mouth to close again.

When he looks back at Papyrus, he seems genuinely worried. “they’re uh, a little hard to control, if you’d believe it.”

“IF OUR MAGIC IS LINKED I CAN SUMMON THESE TOO, RIGHT? THEY LOOK VERY POWERFUL.”

“D o n ’ t .” Sans clears his throat, “uh, i mean, don’t try. it’s not-good-magic, pap. it’s a lot of hate and, well, all round bad feelings to be honest. and a lot of them. they’re not good for you.”

Sans feels like he’s got it under control now though. He waves his hand and the Blaster shatters into shards of magic, then something that reminds him a lot of dust, before dissipating completely.

“YOU FEEL BAD ENOUGH RIGHT NOW TO BE ABLE TO SUMMON THEM?” Papyrus gives him a sad look. Sans looks away.

“kid killed you a lot, papyrus. i use that. if you ever summoned them i’d be really worried.”

“AND YOU SAID THEY’RE CALLED ‘GASTER BLASTERS’?”

Oh boy.

“WHO IS GASTER?”

\----

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> blaster stuff 100% inspired by 'flowey is not a good life coach', which is probably my fave fic atm ngl.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> boy it feels good to finish something. again, gaster stuff is all headcanon and timelines are based on my own resets and stuff. the ending is a bit abrupt but,, y'know. i'm gonna go back over all the chapters one last time to check for mistakes and typos and stuff, then i'm gonna leave this alone other than replying to some comments.

"THIS WAS HERE THE WHOLE TIME?"

The basement is dustier than the house was, though Sans isn't quite sure how that's possible. Still, the lights work so he switches them on, leading the way into the fluorescently lit room as Papyrus loiters in the doorway.

"yep. this is my lab."

"WOWIE. I DIDNT KNOW YOU DID SCIENCE STUFF," Papyrus exclaims as he finally steps into the room.

Sans makes his way over to the machine at the back of the room. "i thought you remembered that. i left my quantum physics books in the house."

"INSIDE YOUR JOKE BOOKS. I THOUGHT IT WAS SIMPLY AN OVERLY ELABORATE RUSE!" Papyrus explains, hands on his hips.

"since when have i put effort into anything," Sans snorts.

Papyrus pauses. "MORE OFTEN THAN I WAS PREVIOUSLY AWARE OF, EVIDENTLY. NOW PLEASE, END THE SUSPENSE AND REVEAL WHAT IT IS YOU ARE GOING TO REVEAL!"

Sans shrugs and turns back to the machine, gripping the fabric with a hand and throwing it up so it lands on the roof of the time machine. The front is revealed almost fully and certainly enough for Papyrus to see a significant amount of the mechanisms and control panels contained within.

"this is the time machine gaster and i built while he and alphys worked on perfecting the core," Sans says simply, matter of fact.

"WOWIE, YOU WORKED WITH THE ROYAL SCIENTIST?" Papyrus seems proud of him. It's strange. He remembers when Papyrus remembered too, and the actual pride his brother had felt for him at the time.

Sans rubs his hand over his face. "yeah, but not how you think. alphys n' i were both support for the royal scientist at the time. gaster."

"AH, BUT IF HE WERE THE ROYAL SCIENTIST I WOULD SURELY REMEMBER HIM!"

"he was our dad too, pap."

Papyrus freezes. "WHAT."

"well our adoptive dad but still, that's more of a parent than anybody else was to us. we appeared in the underground together - i don't remember how or when but it was a long, long time ago. gaster adopted us, looked after us, gave us names..." Sans shrugged. "you liked puzzles more than science so he let you do your thing but man i, uh... i really loved physics."

"LOVED?" Papyrus frowns.

"yeah, well, time shenanigans can really ruin some things for ya, buddy," Sans shrugs. He moves about so he can pull some more of the sheet on top of the machine. "so yeah, gaster knew some stuff was up with the timelines, had other machines to monitor resets and loads from saves when they happened."

"I THOUGHT ONLY FRISK COULD DO THAT."

"nah, the power is chara's. i guess chara would possess the kids that fell into the underground or whatever but it almost always happened when a human showed up," Sans shoves his hands into his pockets. "gaster and alphys handled the experiments with the kids on determination. that was biology. i'm strict physics. i made that clear."

"WHAT KIND OF EXPERIMENTS?" Papyrus moves closer to get a better look at the machine.

"extracting determination from humans and injecting it into monsters. problem is, monsters don't have enough physicality to take to determination so they just sort of... melt, really," Sans forces his expression to even out. "he had the great idea to make the machine--" he gestures to it with vague disgust "--run on the stuff. idiot."

"HOW SO?"

"so," Sans points to parts of the machine as he speaks. "you can make determination into a gas. _gas_ ter thought the easiest way to allow someone to time travel would be through determination like it seemed the humans were able to. so determination floods the chamber with you inside, you get all determined and junk, wish yourself to another time. bam, there you are."

"BUT IT DIDN'T WORK," Papyrus fills in the blank on his own.

"bingo. and it never will, not how we wanted it to. s'why i left it down here when we left. heh, kinda gave up on it but what's new?" Sans shrugs. "anyway, so one day gaster decides it's ready - thinks we've both worked on it long and hard enough that its overdue for him to give it a test run. i'm not a fan of the idea considering the recent results of his and alphys's work with determination, but he's my boss and our dad so i let him."

"AND IT GOES WRONG."

"massively. he gets in, the chamber floods, everything goes hunky-dory. only gasters magic wasn't very strong to begin with - his science was impeccable but the guy had a lot of trouble keeping himself together in the first place," Sans turns away from the chamber of the machine, not wanting to remember it.

"so he melts. his form can't keep itself together and me and alphys are stood there just watching him drip. gaster couldn't talk either, like frisk, only sign language. so he's signing at us not to stop the experiment. again, idiot," he breathes out a forced chuckle. "experiment worked though. the time machine works, in a way. your magic form melts, then the machine scatters every particle you're made up of to a different place in time. of course, this erases your entire existence from all of the timelines. makes you never exist. only people who remember him are me and alphys, because we were there when it happened. some other people tried to use it too but it did the same to them, just to a lesser extent because their magic was too put together. couldn't dissolve them as easily i guess."

"That's horrifying," Papyrus says, quiet.

"you're telling me. try remembering it and then, heh... then try living with this--" he kicks the machine harder than he expected to, but it gives him an immediate sense of relief "--piece of god damn garbage reminding you every fucking time you see it that you did that. you helped make a machine that could fucking do that to someone."

Papyrus gently rests a hand on his shoulder. "It's not your fault, Sans."

Sans tenses up slightly, can't stop the reaction. "yeah, sure," he sighs. "there's some other timeline stuff over here."

Papyrus removes his hand and Sans heads over to the countertops. In the one of the cupboards beneath there's a small wooden box. He pulls it out, opens it up on the countertop. Then, he steps away from it and waves a hand inviting Papyrus towards it.

"check it out. it's lined with anti-time metal so things from other timelines are able to stay inside it while everything else resets," Sans, standing next to Papyrus, points towards a journal. "this is my timeline journal. i take a note in there everytime the kid comes through the ruin doors again, then what they do afterwards."

Papyrus takes out the book and flips through the pages. He points towards a series of coloured lines at the top of the page. "WHAT ARE THESE?"

"colour coordinated according to boss monster deaths," Sans explains. "makes for easy reading when you're sick of it happening over and over again."

"THERE'S A LOT OF ORANGE AT THE BEGINNING," Papyrus frowns.

"yeah that's, uh, that's you buddy," Sans scratches the back of his skull. "sometimes chara gave up when they got to me. took the opportunity to go back and kill you. when they got through me, the next few 'neutral' timelines were spent killing you and a few other random monsters. guess they had a bone to pick or something."

Papyrus spends some time actually reading through the entries in the journal and Sans stands somewhat restlessly at his side. He catches a glimpse of orange peeking out from under the contents of the box. Immediately he recognises it. When Papyrus looks up and follows Sans's line of vision, he decides to carefully pick it up out of the box.

It still has dust on it. Papyrus holds the scarf gingerly in his hands, the remains of another version of himself sparkling slightly under the glint of the fluorescent lights.

"This is from when they..." Papyrus can't finish the thought.

"yeah."

"What did you--" his brother hesitates, staring in a daze at the orange fabric in his hands. "What did you spread my dust on?"

Sans swallows and averts his eyes so he's looking past Papyrus instead of at him. "depended on the timeline. you love so much but there's only so much dust that’s there to be spread. i learnt that the hard way. it got to the point where i just put it on a new thing every time: your action figures, that flag that undyne got you, the spaghetti in the fridge, the kitchen, your battle body, your bed, so on."

Papyrus gently places the scarf back in the box. He turns to look at Sans but Sans realises he's not done speaking yet.

"then it got to the point where i was finally repeating the stuff i spread it on and you'd died so many times. i was so... frustrated. heh," he rubs a hand over his face and realises he’s crying. His voice cracks but he keeps going. "so-- so i thought 'hey what does papyrus _really_ love?'. then i knelt in the snow, picked up a handful of your dust, and tipped it over my head."

There's a painfully long pause where nothing happens. Papyrus doesn't say anything and Sans doesn't even dare to breathe. Then Papyrus's hands are on Sans's shoulders, pulling him in close so his face is pressed against the soft fabric of the woollen sweater he's wearing.

"Good choice," is all Papyrus says.

\----

Sans sleeps better after that, but Papyrus sleeps worse. He knows this because they share a bed together now.

It continues long past when they leave Snowdin, taking Frisk home and giving Grillby and his daughter a ride back when they go. Neither had slept the night before leaving, and had both essentially crashed as soon as they got back to their apartment. Papyrus had woken up that night, shocked and scared, remembering fragments of what had happened to him now that he was aware.

Sans does the same as his brother always did for him. Soothes him, talks about it, and lulls him back to sleep. The bed sharing became more of a convenience than anything, with one or both of them being likely to wake up with a nightmare at least twice a week.

But with time, they become rarer.

\----

Christmas comes and they all spend it at Asgore's house because it's the biggest. The goat monster had tried putting up mistletoe in the hopes that maybe he'd be caught underneath it with Toriel. Only problem is, he put it over the door and he isn't the one answering it, Frisk is.

Before them, Alphys and Undyne are caught under it together, which isn't bad at all considering they're openly together. But Papyrus and Sans are caught under it too.

Honestly, Papyrus seems more worried about it than Sans is, although Sans is so far past the point of caring about anything but Papyrus that it’s not a surprise.  So Sans tilts his head to the side and Papyrus gets the idea, pressing a careful kiss to his cheekbone.

"No way! Cheek kisses DO NOT count!" Undyne shouts, leaning over the back of the couch with her hands gripping the back cushions. “I want SKULL ON SKULL ACTION!”

"Undyne, t-they're brothers," Alphys says, watching too but leant over the arm of the chair. "I-I mean I know we watch a-a lot of weird anime but come on."

Papyrus is still bent down, kind of stopped in his tracks by the outburst so Sans shrugs and lets his grin spread wider.

"gotta give the people what they want, right?" he says.

Papyrus looks back at him, confused for moment, before Sans presses their teeth together with an audible clack. It lasts a second, but still his brother's cheekbones flair up with a bright orange glow.

Sans winks an eye socket, heading inside the house, messing up Frisk's hair with his hand as he passes them. "c'mon bro, you’re letting the heat out keeping the door open like that. wouldn’t want to give anyone the cold shoulder.”

\----

Undyne and Alphys get the spare double bedroom. Mettaton decided to show up later in the evening with Napstablook, the ghost insisting they didn't need a bed even if Mettaton did, so together they took a spare single bedroom. Toriel took the other spare single bedroom. Asgore slept in his normal room, as did Frisk. This leaves Sans and Papyrus in the familiar situation of sleeping on the couch.

Asgore had tried to insist that they both take his bed, as it was large enough for them to comfortably share. Sans had laughed at that, and pointed out that he and Papyrus were probably more size suited to sleep on the sofa than he was. Besides, they were just babybones compared to him. He'd been around since before the Underground was even a thing - so, literally thousands of years. They weren't going to make someone like that, who also happened to be a 7ft tall goat monster, sleep on the couch.

Sans takes one of the smaller sofas while Papyrus sleeps on the full length one. They're not too bad for sleeping as far as something that was intended for sitting goes.

Still, Sans is woken up by Papyrus's gasp and the glow of magic in his eye. It's still a strange experience to see his brother's socket lit up like that, and it continues to catch him off guard.

"you okay?" he asks quietly.

Papyrus shakes his head.

"you want me to--" but Sans is standing up even before he starts to ask, and Papyrus is nodding before he finishes.

The couch is wide enough for them to properly lay side by side without one of them taking the risk of falling off. Still, Sans wraps his arms around Papyrus's waist and this time it's Papyrus who presses his face to Sans's chest and lets out a gentle sob. It reminds him of before, another time where Papyrus's pain was his fault. He should have kept this secret too.

Sans gently presses his palm over Papyrus's skull. "the one where you die again?"

He's surprised when Papyrus shakes his head. His brother's voice is muffled and wavering when he speaks, "You died. Stopped them from killing me. I watched you turn to dust and thought I must finally know how you felt, watching it happen to me all those times."

Sans doesn't know what to say to that so he presses his teeth gently to Papyrus's skull. It lingers for a moment, then Papyrus tilts his head up to press their teeth together solidly. Sans allows it, then remembers where they are.

"do you really want to uh-- y'know, do that here?" he asks.

"Sans, please," Papyrus says, and Sans doesn’t argue with the need in his voice.

Papyrus conjures his soul and Sans follows lead, shivering as Papyrus gently presses their ribs together through two layers of fabric. Their teeth connect again, the angle awkward but satisfying.

When Papyrus tries to press forwards more, Sans spreads his legs so his brother can rest between them more comfortably. Their ribs shift, their souls move closer, and their teeth clack audibly at the change of the angle.

It's at the feel of an experimental hand pressing under his shirt, lingering in the almost empty space of his ribs, that’s where Sans has to draw the line. It feels good, feels incredible, but--

"not here," he breathes. He smooths his hands gently up Papyrus's back, palms coming to rest on his shoulder blades. "i, uh, i think i know what you want to try but... yeah, not here, pap."

“Okay,” Papyrus says softly – no argument – and moves his hand up, so it’s pressing gently against Sans’s lower ribs instead. If anything it feels comforting, reassuring.

“we could try something else though,” Sans says. Papyrus looks interested. “i mean, it’s theoretically possible but i’ve never um, tried it before but—“

He decides to stop rambling and just focus his magic on his mouth, or rather inside it. There’s a tingle in the bones there before he feels something between physical and non-physical manifest in his lower jaw. Sans sticks his newly formed tongue out at Papyrus, who doesn’t say anything.

“what’s the matter? cat got your tongue?”

Papyrus snorts, then leans forward to press his face to the side of Sans’s neck to muffle an airy laugh.

“I love you, Sans, but keep that thing away from me,” Papyrus leans back up, a brow bone raised at the dripping blue tongue. “Gosh, it’s making such a mess.”

“what, you’re saying me drooling over you doesn’t do it for you?”

“That is exactly what I’m saying,” Papyrus smiles at him.

Sans hesitates to make the tongue dissipate without getting any use out of it. “one kiss?”

If Papyrus had eyes Sans thinks he would have rolled them. Either way, his brother leans down and presses his teeth to one side of the tongue. Sans turns his head and licks across Papyrus’s bottom row of teeth, feeling him shake slightly against him. He brings his hands up to cup either side of Papyrus’s jaw and – when Papyrus opens his mouth slightly – purposefully licks across the inside of both rows of teeth.

When he pulls back, Papyrus keeps his mouth slightly parted.

“good? bad?” he asks, though Papyrus seems dazed.

“Acceptable,” Papyrus answers, then taps the tip of the tongue with a finger. “Now put it away, you’re going to get that blue stuff all over Asgore’s upholstery.”

\----

Sans is woken up by the sounds of someone trying to be quiet and failing. He ignores it, pressing his face further into the warmth of Papyrus’s chest. Then he hears an electronic chuckle and the sound of someone putting the coffee machine on. He sighs and decides he should probably get up.

Standing is hard on good days, but it’s even harder with Papyrus’s arms wrapped around him. Careful to not wake his brother, he dislodges himself and pulls his shirt back down over his ribs and spine from where it had risen up while he was sleeping. He pulls on his hoodie and joins Mettaton in the kitchen where the robot is trying to find mugs in one of the many cupboards.

“i could take the bottom ones, you could take the top ones. y’know, height and all that,” Sans says, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“It’s fine, darling. I think I’ve got them,” and sure enough, Mettaton produces two mugs. He places them on the countertop and waits for the coffee to boil. “You two are adorable, all cuddled up to each other like that.”

“heh. can’t argue with you on that one.”

There’s a comfortable silence as the Mettaton puts sugar in both their cups and takes milk out of the fridge. Sans leans against the counter and watches him, somewhat envious of the grace in which he’s able to do things. How Mettaton looks so put together even with bed head is honestly beyond him.

Mettaton passes him a mug and Sans takes it, mostly using it to warm the bones of his hands.

“I miss watching those shows you did while you were working at my hotel,” it’s sort of out of the blue, but it’s been a while since he and Mettaton actually talked.

“not going to lie, i enjoyed doing them. didn’t know you found skeletons so humerous.”

Mettaton gives a small snort, then a huff of laughter. He sips his coffee, then says, “I wouldn’t have hired you if I didn’t find you funny. Only the best for MTT.”

“i’m very aware i’m a comic. a comic—“

“A Comic Sans,” Mettaton grins. Sans grins wider.

“i’m glad alphys finally finished tweaking your ex form,” Sans says. “it must feel good not having to be a calculator on wheels anymore.”

“It does. Having legs is a big bonus,” Mettaton demonstrates this by kicking one of his legs up and resting it on the countertop.

“i’d do the same but i’m afraid i’d fall over.”

Mettaton chuckles and keeps his leg where it is as he continues to drink his coffee. Sans wonders where it goes in his robot body, but then again he also wonders where it goes in his skeleton body.

“I guess my box form wasn’t so bad.”

“papyrus had a crush on it, i remember that.”

Mettaton raises his eyebrow. “I had no idea. I know people tried to make themselves look more square because of me,” then he pauses, considering for a moment. “Your brother seems more interested in you now though.”

Sans nearly chokes on a mouthful of coffee.

“Oh dear, look at those baby blue cheekbones of yours!” Mettaton laughs, an airy, melodic sound. “I tease, I tease. Though, speaking of your brother—“

Papyrus steps through the archway of the kitchen door and visibly has to keep himself in check when he sees Mettaton. Still star struck, it seems. He never did tell his brother that he worked for MTT as a third job. Nevermind.

“Is there anything I can get you, darling?” Mettaton asks, finally taking his leg off the counter.

“OH, JUST MILK,” Papyrus says, coming to stand by Sans. He looks into the cup and makes a noise of disgust. “YOU SHOULD BE DRINKING MILK TOO! YOU DO KNOW THAT COFFEE STOPS YOU FROM GROWING UP TO BE BIG AND TALL?”

“i don’t think i’m getting taller any time soon, pap.”

Papyrus rests an arm on Sans’s shoulder and had it been anyone else Sans would have teleported and let them fall over.

“YOU WILL BE SHORT FOREVER!”

Mettaton passes Papyrus a glass of milk and grins down at Sans. “You could always try heels.”

“i think i’ll pass on that one, buddy.”

“Your loss.”

\----

Christmas passes, their lives return back to some kind of normality, Papyrus starts classes again at college. Sans feels his absence like something he’s forgotten.

Sometimes he’ll greet Papyrus as he walks through the door, halfway through taking off his shoes before he realises Papyrus isn’t back yet. He’ll make a comment about something they both like to watch on TV, only to remember that Papyrus is staying late to practice. He’ll go to sleep long before Papyrus does, and get woken up as his brother shuffles into bed next to him. Papyrus will press his face to the side of Sans’s neck and mumble the ingredients to various recipes until he falls asleep.

Sometimes Sans stays late at the lab so he doesn’t have to come home to face an empty house. He’ll spend longer on an experiment, trying to find a way to perfect it instead of doing it in the most efficient way possible like he usually would. Sometimes he’ll drop by Toriel’s school to teach more classes or just to talk to her. With Papyrus’s absence, he feels lonelier than he has in a long time.

Sometimes he’ll stay late and come back to find Papyrus had made the effort to come home early. His brother will be sat on the couch waiting, with a sort of nervous energy, and when Sans opens the door he’ll turn to look at him. Papyrus will give him this sort of sad smile and they’ll spend three hours less with each other than they could have.

Somewhere along the line, they’ve managed to fall out of sync. Sans hates it.

\----

It’s the day of Papyrus’s last exam. Sans sits with him as he eats breakfast, his brother’s feet making noise against the tiled floor as he jolts his legs up and down with nervous energy. He kisses Papyrus on the cheek before he leaves for college, then makes his own way to work at the lab.

He know it’s the day of Papyrus’s last couple of exams. To say he’s proud of his younger brother would be an understatement. He can’t wait to get home, congratulate Papyrus, and spend some actual time with him.

What he doesn’t expect is Papyrus slamming the door to his work space open with his foot – door bouncing off the wall – and bounding in. Boots slap tile, Papyrus making his way over to Sans and grabbing the back of his chair to spin him around.

“I’M FREE! NO MORE EXAMS! I AM FREE!” he shouts, hands moving from the back of the chair to Sans’s shoulders.

Then he kisses him.

Sans can’t help it, he leans into it. The door is open, anyone could walk past and see them, even more so with the amount of noise Papyrus made when he came in. But he doesn’t care. He grips the front of Papyrus’s shirt as he goes to pull back, keeping him closer for a few extra moments. When he lets go and Papyrus breaks the kiss, Sans grins at him – something wide and genuine.

“i’m proud of you, pap,” he pulls his brother in for a hug. “you worked so hard. if you didn’t pass, i’m going to fight someone about it.”

“I TOO AM VERY CONFIDENT IN MY SUCCESS!” Papyrus squeezes him closer. “THIS MEANS WE GET TO SPEND MORE TIME TOGETHER!”

“absolutely,” Sans pulls back and grins even wider. “in fact i’m almost done here. let me finish this up and we’ll head back home together.”

\----

They get home, they eat dinner together for the first time in far too long, then they watch television together like they used to. All of this, Papyrus does with a kind of restless energy. He taps his foot against the ground while they talk over dinner; he holds Sans’s hand and meticulously traces and counts – under his breath – all the bones down to his wrist while they watch TV, then repeats from the wrist up.

“you seem worked up, buddy,” Sans says, on what is somewhere close to the tenth time Papyrus counts the bones in his hand.

Papyrus looks up at him, and then away. Then he carefully folds both hands around Sans’s own. “I WANT TO SHARE OUR SOULS.”

Sans swallows.

“WE HAVEN’T REALLY HAD TIME TO DO ANYTHING LIKE THAT IN MONTHS AND I… I WANT TO FEEL CLOSE TO YOU AGAIN?” Papyrus shrugs. “IT JUST MAKES ME FEEL CONTENT. OR HAPPY. MAYBE SAFE, TOO.”

“i think i understand what you’re saying,” Sans looks up at him, expression serious. “you think we need to have a heart to heart.”

There’s a pause, then Papyrus breathes a laugh out through his nose. “YIKES. TURN THE TV OFF, I WANT TO HUG AND KISS. PERHAPS IN SECRET… PERHAPS WE WILL HAVE TO GO… UNDER COVERS!”

Sans gives a genuine laugh at that one, it’s so rare that his brother returns his jokes. He does as Papyrus tells him, and turns off the television before letting himself be led towards Papyrus’s room. It’s where they sleep together most nights as it’s both cleaner than Sans’s room and has a bigger bed.

They sit so they’re facing each other on the bed. Papyrus’s legs are long enough to spread either side of Sans’s body, whereas Sans’s feet reach just past the half way point of Papyrus’s thighs. The lights are off, with just the bedside lamp turned on. It’s intimate, and all at once Sans dreads and anticipates it.

Papyrus summons his soul and Sans follow his lead. He watches as his brother carefully reaches his hand up inside his rib cage. At least because it’s crop top weather, Papyrus doesn’t have to worry about excess shirt material getting in the way. Papyrus brings his soul out of his rib cage, holding it as gently as he can in one bony hand. The orange glow lights up his face – he looks excited. There’s no hint of worry or nervousness. Sans realises that Papyrus trusts him wholly, and something catches in his not-there throat, makes his own soul throb.

With clumsy motions, Sans bunches his shirt up over his ribs, holding it there with one hand as the other reaches inside his own rib cage in search of his soul. His fingers catch it and it feels almost painful, although maybe it’s just the shock of it being touched when really it’s something that should be left alone. He takes care to cup his hand around it, the soul cool to the touch, as he brings it out into the open.

It looks fragile. It is fragile. Even for a monster as strong as Papyrus is, the soul is still fragile. For Sans, with his low HP, it’s even more so.

He stares at it for a long time, the heart shaped glow of electric blue and magic cooling the bones in his hands and twinkling at him. For a moment he wonders if he trusts Papyrus to hold it, before he realises it probably couldn’t be in a safer place than Papyrus’s hands.

So he passes it over before he has a chance to second guess himself, shoves his hand and the soul out in front of Papyrus for him to take. It’s hard, trusting someone this much. But Papyrus had infinitely more control over his magic than Sans ever did, a gentler touch than Sans could ever hope to have. The only thing Sans can do better than Papyrus is dodge. Dodge attacks. Dodge conflict. Dodge problems.

Papyrus takes his soul without comment, placing his own in Sans’s outstretched palm in exchange.

Instantly, he understands what Papyrus meant about feeling safe. The soul in his hands feels warm, just as the hands holding his own soul feel warm. Papyrus rubs a thumb over Sans’s soul and Sans feels it like a wave of love and affection coating his body, filtering over his bones. He forgets to breathe for a moment, the sensation overwhelming, before he returns the touch for Papyrus. He feels nothing but love towards Papyrus, and he feels nothing but love from Papyrus in return.

“is this all there is to it?” Sans asks after a moment.

“IS IT BAD?” Papyrus looks suddenly stressed. Sans raises a brow bone at him.

“buddy, you can literally feel my emotions, do you think i think it feels bad?” Papyrus pauses, then shakes his head once. “it’s just… less stressful than i thought it would be. i thought it would be a big deal. i mean, it _is_ a big deal just—just not in the way i expected, y’know?”

“I THINK I KNOW,” Papyrus responds, then looks down at the soul. “WE COULD LAY DOWN IF YOU WANT? I DON’T THINK THE DATING MANUAL HAD A SECTION ON HOW TO DO THIS, SO I SAY ANYTHING GOES!”

“yeah, we’ll make it up as we go along,” Sans says, carefully pushing himself onto his knees and shuffling up the bed so he can sit next to Papyrus. There’s a moment of silence. “i can feel your love.”

Papyrus gasps, scandalised. “I WOULD NEVER! I HAVE NO LV!”

Sans laughs, turning his face to press it into the hood of his jacket to muffle the sound. “no, like the emotion love. your love for me. it’s weird, but not bad weird. i like it. makes me feel warm.”

His brother rocks to knock their shoulders together. “THERE’S A LOT OF IT.”

“yeah. guess i just didn’t realise.”

Sans stares down at the soul in his hands longer. He’s not sure when or why but suddenly there are tears in his eyes. Papyrus jumps slightly as one lands on his soul, turning to look at Sans.

“A-ARE YOU OKAY?” he asks, and Sans nods, quick to reassure him.

“just, i don’t know. just a bit much? i’m not used to this,” Sans gently holds his brother’s soul in one hand, bringing the other up to wipe his eye sockets. “heh, i’m being such a babybones. just look at me.”

Then Papyrus’s hand is at his shirt, lifting it up. Sans almost panics before he realises Papyrus is just lifting the material to place his soul carefully back inside the safety of his ribs. Sans reaches up to do the same, forcing his hand not to tremble as he replaces his brother’s soul. Papyrus presses his teeth gently to the side of Sans’s face.

“god, you really love me,” Sans says, feeling some kind of fuzzy but warm distance between his mind and reality.

“YOU LOVE ME TOO. WE LOVE EACH OTHER! WHICH IS CONVIENIENT,” Papyrus grins as he says it, and Sans laughs. He reaches up to wrap his arms around his brother’s neck, pulling him in for a hug.

“it was nice. we should do it again some time,” Sans says, leaning back into the pillow and bringing Papyrus down with him. “maybe next time i won’t cry.”

“OR MAYBE YOU WILL AND IT WILL STILL BE OKAY,” Papyrus reassures, arranging himself on his side, his arms more securely wrapping around his brother. “CRYING ISN’T ALWAYS A BAD THING!”

“yeah, i guess you’re right.”

\----

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one final set of notes to say thank you so much to everyone for your support. i'm sorry this took so long to update after the first chapter, but hey, it's finished, and i hope you all enjoy it. thank you so much for feedback, and kind comments, i appreciate every single one of them even if i don't reply to them all.


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